Signs of Weakness
by Victoria LeRoux
Summary: They didn't cry, because it was a sign of weakness. They didn't apologize, because they knew that was just one more way of showing that weakness. And they knew that Gibbs hated them showing weakness.


Title: Signs of Weakness  
Summary: They didn't cry, because it was a sign of weakness. They didn't apologize, because they knew that was just one more way of showing that weakness. And they knew that Gibbs hated them showing weakness.  
Character(s): Leroy Jethro Gibbs  
A/N: No idea where this came from, so it turned into a drabblish thing.

They went to the funeral with heavy hearts and silent words. The entire team was there, and most of the agency. If they counted, they would have noticed that there were three ex-wives, four ex-girlfriends, seventeen NCIS agents, one retired NCIS agent from Mexico, nine former marines, one father, twelve marines, one forensic scientist, two autopsy doctors, one preacher, one NCIS director, and more uncountable people who owned something to the man.

Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, now leader of a team that he could barely meet gazes with, gazed down at the coffin, his eyes dark. He didn't quote a single movie, didn't mention a single time when he passed out drunk in Gibbs' basement with the man beside him. He didn't apologize for letting the man down, because he knew that Gibbs hated apologies.

Former Mossad Officer, now Agent, David, stood a few feet away from Tony, her face brimming with tears that she refused to spill. She opened her mouth and whispered a single phrase as she stared at the coffin. "I'm not going to forget you. You were always a wolf in goat's clothing." She murmured, using her first contraction. She knew that Gibbs would be angry with her if she cried, because that would be showing how weak she was, and Gibbs hated weakness.

Beside Ziva, another man stood. Senior Field Agent Timothy McGee corrected her quietly, "Sheep's clothing," he murmured to her, his voice soft. "Bye Boss," he muttered, stepping back. He wasn't thinking about L. J. Tibbs, not today. He didn't want to blemish this last memory with the thought of the other life he led. He knew that Gibbs wouldn't have wanted him to be writing this into his next novel.

Behind the quartet, Abby bawled. She had a Caf-Pow clutched in one hand, and a dog leash in her other. McGee's German Sheppard shook its tail sadly at her, but she didn't notice. Abby refused to blame the team for this, because she knew that Gibbs wouldn't want that. It wasn't their fault, so she refused to blame anyone.

The coffin was lowered gently, with the American flag placed over it. The marines, former and current, all snapped a salute as they began to bury the body. The preacher intoned meaningless phrases- after all, how could a complete stranger fit the esscene of Leroy Jethro Gibbs in a single paragraph?

At the very back, Ducky sat, stunned at the sudden demise of his long time friend. He listened to the preacher, and shook his head, correcting the man, _four wives, not three,_ he told the man silently. But Ducky didn't say it out loud- he knew that Jethro wouldn't have minded, after all, Shannon and Kelly were a well-kept secret that was meant to remain a secret.

When the funeral was ended, the team didn't move, not at first anyway. Abby was the first to move- slowly, she went to each member of the team and pulled them into a bone breaking hug that left their breath squeezed out of their lungs. Each of them returned the hug fiercely, each in a state of shock.

Tony was the first to speak. Throughout the entire funeral, his throat was sore and dry, as the man that was like a father to him was buried in front of him. "Shoulda had your six, Boss," he murmured, and a resounding slap on the head caused him to jump. Abby was glaring fiercely at him.

"Don't you ever say it was your fault, Tony!" she practically snarled the words out, and said it in a softer tone. "He wouldn't blame you, and he wouldn't want to blame yourself."

"Well," Ziva forced a smile. "We will miss you."

Slowly the rest of the team added on their last words to their team leader, and they turned and walked away, arms linked at the elbows, each of them enjoying shared closeness.

And behind them, they left the body of their leader behind, buried six feet under the ground, with a simple tombstone that read-

_R.I.P.  
Leroy Jethro Gibbs  
An agent, a marine, and a damn good boat-builder_

-and they didn't look back.

**A/n-1**

**Unedited.**

**Please review!**


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